I solemnly swear
by MoonFire1
Summary: If Ron Weasley could address the Harry Potter fandom, what might he say?


**Title:** I solemnly swear . . .

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters found in JK Rowling's Harry Potter series. No monetary compensation is being made for this story.

 **Author's Note:** I grew tired of Weasley family bashing when the novels were first published. Ron Weasley is especially maligned for his humanity, warts and all. Fandom never lets a bad trend die, it would seem.

 _(I solemnly swear on my life and my magic that the following is, to the best of my knowledge and recollection, true.)_

My name is Ronald Weasley, and in the judgmental eyes of many, I am damned.

I am useless. I am weak. I should have never gone to Hogwarts or been Sorted into Gryffindor. Hanger-on, unbearably jealous, uncivilized at best and far more evil than Voldemort could have ever aspired.

There. Have I gotten your attention now?

In all honesty, what were my crimes?

First, Mum's little game at King's Cross station. Yes, she perfectly well knew where the platform was. Yes, she spoke loudly of Muggles. And no, she did not break the Statute of Secrecy because a small Muggle diverting charm was applied on all of us prior to us arriving at the station. Being the first to find or say the platform was one of the things I enjoyed before I was able to go to school. It was sad seeing my brothers go, year after year, and I couldn't follow. We all played the same game.

Good thing we did, too. Harry didn't know how to get onto the platform as Hagrid hadn't told him. What was he supposed to do? What were _we_ supposed to do? It wasn't the first time Mum was able to help a lost Muggleborn.

I didn't know who he was when I looked in the car (and the others were full, thank you very much). I gaped at the scar for less than a second. We had far more important things to talk about, such as Chocolate Frogs, what school would be like, what it was like to grow up mundane or magical. I was eleven and ecstatic at having made a friend before my brothers could ruin it. Anything I enjoyed tended to be twisted for their purposes and pranks. Away from home but still bound to parental expectations (anyone wonder why the Hat sent me to Gryffindor so quickly?), ready to find my place in the world, or school at least

I couldn't have done what Harry did. I wouldn't have survived. I know I failed him and our friendship many, many times over the years. He accepted me back without reservation, has never held it against me. Can't say even my darling Hermione has been that obliging, though the frequency of our arguments has decreased over the years.

I loved her from the very beginning, you know, only I didn't know what the feeling was called. I was _eleven_ , for Merlin's sake. My words were thoughtless and sent her running to the girls' lavatory. You know what happened afterward, how Harry and I saved her life, bringing our friendships together.

You don't know the other things. I despise being called a fool, and she had done so more than once in word and in deed. She meant well, yes I know, and truly I should forgive the foibles of youth. (Of course, is such forgiveness ever bestowed upon me? Doubtful. It wouldn't fit your narrative.) I fought a wand not my own (or did you forget that as well?) to demonstrate even rudimentary magical skills.

Had nothing to do with my ability or the lack thereof. The wand chooses the wizard, and Bill's old wand assuredly had NOT chosen me.

(How is it that every misstep I took has been dissected and proclaimed proof of how evil I truly must be, yet others (Malfoy and Snape especially) are given undeserved clean slates? The Dark Mark cannot be given unwillingly or without committing murder. My arm is bare and my conscience clear. Malfoy has been barred from government but I've no doubt he will find a way to resume his father's game.)

None of us were saints, but Harry in some ways ran close. He taught me to see the blessing in my family because he lacked his own. I was richer than I knew for all we never had much money.

That was what I used to want. If you haven't grown up poor, don't presume to know what it does to people. Money wouldn't have meant happiness, but it might've been nice to see some of the worry removed from Mum and Dad.

You know about the War. We fought. Many died. Others lived. War changes people. In the end, we all came through for each other.

We grew up, we got married, we had our families. My children have everything they need and some of what they want. They know I love and would do anything for them.

(As an aside, do you know how true marriage vows work? I took Veritaserum prior to mine and Hermione's wedding just to quell the rumors. No love potions, no Obliviations, no manipulations, and no blackmail. My heart was knit to Hermione Jane Granger, and I thank Merlin her heart was knit to mine without reservation).

The gods-be-damned _whispers_ still haven't stopped.

It doesn't matter the good I've done; it doesn't matter that I was another child trying to become a man over seven years' worth of protracted war.

My name is Ronald Weasley, and in your eyes, I am still damned.

/end/


End file.
